Page 52 of The Sins of Saint (The Sins of Saint 3)

The second I saw Mila sitting at the bar next to my father, my heart hammered against my ribs, a goddamn ticking timebomb about to explode. I fumed as the bitter bile of rage surged up my throat while my thoughts ran wild with all the‘what-the-fucks’triggered by this entire scenario. What the hell was she doing here?

My fists balled, and my vision tunneled, focused on my wife and the obvious lies that led us all here. And there he was. My dad. The fucking right-hand man of Satan himself, and I was two breaths away from grabbing the first knife I could find and throwing it right into his motherfucking back from across the restaurant.

I had no idea what the fuck was happening, why they were meeting up. All I knew was I needed to get my pregnant wife as far away from that goddamn demon as possible.

My Italian leather shoes burrowed grooves in the floor as I stormed toward them with fire on my heels.

Mila had grabbed her purse in a hurry, but when she heard my voice, it was like concrete had plastered her feet to the goddamn ground. As always, my father pretended to be unfazed, as if my sudden appearance and hostile presence didn’t rattle him at all.

If only he knew how much I wanted to bury a blade in his goddamn skull.

My father stood from his chair and straightened his suit jacket, his expression stone. “I asked Mila to meet me.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” I bit out the venomous words between clenched teeth, breathing heavily through my nose.

Mila placed her hand on my elbow, but her touch burned the same way her misleading words on her note deceived. I yanked away from her touch and kept my deadly glare on my father, livid and ready to end this war right here, right now.

He squared his shoulders, just another way he made sure I knew he didn’t feel intimidated by me. “She is having my grandchild. I only thought it fitting for me to get to know my daughter-in-law.”

My anger surged violently through my veins, my bones, and it wanted out. It wanted to tear my goddamn skin off and devour everything in its path. “You listen to me, you old bastard.” I clenched my jaw and stepped forward, pointing a finger right into his motherfucking face. “She is nothing to you. You hear me? And do not think for one second I will allow you to come near my child. You will never have the privilege of being a grandfather.” I inched closer so he could feel the fury in my hot breath, but my father held his broadened stance. “If you come near my wife again, I will kill you. If you so much as breathe her goddamn name, I will slit your throat while you sleep. Do you understand?”

“Jesus, Saint. Stop,” Mila urged with desperation as she wrapped her fingers around my elbow. But I merely shrugged from her hold and eyeballed my father with a glare as sharp as daggers. The toxic mix of rage and hate had already taken control and stripped me of every shred of common sense. Common sense that included the fact that killing someone in public was frowned upon.

“Mila and I merely had a heart-to-heart.” My father’s voice was calm, his expression unreadable. “There is no need to cause a scene.”

“Oh, believe me, this isn’t a scene. A scene would be me cracking your skull against that granite countertop. Now, that would be a scene.”

“Saint.” Mila forced herself in between me and my father, her back toward him, and her pointed stare settled on my mine. “Listen to me. You need to take me home now. Please.” Her voice was soft, but I picked up on the slight tremor that echoed from her words. A desperate plea for me not to turn into the man who killed her supposed friend. Or the man who killed her psychotic brother. God, I was on the edge. I was on the verge of turning into that man.

“Saint, please. There’s something you need to know, but I have to get home first.”

I dropped my fiery gaze down to her, and just for a second, all I could think about was punishing her. Making her regret that she lied and went behind my back to meet with the one person I hated the most. All I saw were shades of red, her skin, her pain—the pain I’d inflict. But then I noticed her bottom lip tremble, and she reached behind her ear, absentmindedly touching her scar—a telltale sign that she was nervous. Scared.

Fuck. I had to force myself to take a breath, to inhale and compel myself to keep my shit together.

I wrapped my fingers around her elbow and pulled her behind me when I glowered at my father. “Stay the fuck away from us, or I will be the one who buries you.”

There were so many things I wanted to say to him. So many curses and threats I wanted to spit out. But the bewildered gazes of guests and the desperate pleas of my wife had me swallowing a mouthful of insults.

“This is the last time I warn you without bloodshed. I swear to God.”

With my fingers biting into Mila’s arm, I turned and all but dragged her out of the busy restaurant. I didn’t give a rat’s ass about what onlookers must have thought. All I cared about was staying in control and getting Mila home.

Viktor followed us out of the restaurant. The second my feet hit the pavement, I swung around and punched him in the motherfucking face. Viktor staggered back, both hands clutching his nose.

“I should be burying your fucking corpse right now.”

“Saint, stop!”

I snapped my gaze in Mila’s direction. “Stay out of this. You have done enough for one night.” I turned back to Viktor, who held his bleeding nose. “As for you…I’m not particularly fond of the idea of having my wife witness me driving a knife through your heart. So be grateful she’s here, because she’s the only reason you’re breathing right now. But know this,” I stepped closer with nothing but anger scraping at my spine, “you will never get a motherfucking job in this city, do you understand me? Your father, your two brothers, your goddamn nephews will never work in this fucking city again. I will make sure of that.”

“Saint,” Mila exclaimed, “stop it, would you? You’re acting insane right now.”

I cut my gaze toward her. “You do not get to speak right now. Get in the fucking car.” I pointed at the black Maserati parked in the no-parking lane. Finding a legal parking space was not my top priority when I pulled up in front of the restaurant with screeching tires.

Mila looked at me with eyes that screamed panic, fear, and disappointment all at once. But I couldn’t care less. For twenty goddamn minutes, I imagined the worst. For twenty fucking minutes, my every nightmare played off inside my head. So, I was pretty sure after going through hell and back five thousand goddamn times in the span of a few minutes, I was allowed toact insane.

“We were just talking, Saint.” Her eyes never left mine, her determination to not be intimidated by me shimmering in the green of her eyes.

---